After forty-five years together, I’m not too sure how much impact I’ve had on my husband.
I know that after growing up in a family where dining out was considered just plain silly when there was perfectly good food at home, he’s since learned that a restaurant meal is actually entertainment.
I think his spelling has improved, mostly due to all the words I’ve called across the house when he’s in the middle of composing a letter or memo.
But how would he have been living if he’d never married?
It’s a given that his bachelor pad would never, ever, ever see a neatly made bed. Or if it was there, it would still be unseen due to everything that would be heaped on top of it. Then again, the sink would be spotless since he would be eating out for all meals.
There would be stacks of books and magazines and newspapers on every surface, with no one cruising around behind him, weeding and sorting. Art projects in various stages of completion would take up whatever space remained.
I suspect that my own bachelorette digs wouldn’t have been much neater than his place.
I know that after the kids were grown and he was traveling for business, my own habits changed when I was living alone for a week or so. It’s probably like all that milk I drank for dinner to set a good example for the kids. Once my audience was gone, I reverted to a more comfortable mode of living. It’s a scientific fact that a jacket that never makes it to the closet or those dishes left in the sink are actually magnets, and if left there, more will appear. On my own, it now was safe to leave shoes in the kitchen, and the mail strewn across the table.
However, I'm certain our lives would have been a lot poorer for conversation, experiences, memories, and love.